approached, half-carrying an elderly man in a rumpled suit with a yellow badge. He was unshaven, his face bruised, grey hair standing up in tufts, eyes wide with fear. They walked past Sarah and her escort; behind her she heard a door slam. She looked at her guard. He took her back up the same flight of steps Gunther had escorted her down, along empty corridors then through a side door and out into the cold night air. He led her round to the front of Senate House, the building and its immense swastika flags floodlit. The guard walked Sarah to a gate in the side of the high wall, bars of thick iron with barbed wire on top, and unlocked it for her. He actually bowed slightly as she passed him and stepped out into Gower Street. A British policeman standing on duty outside the embassy with a sub-machine gun turned and glanced at her without interest. The gate closed behind her with a little clang, and she stood staring blankly down the dark street. Then she began walking away, fast.
She caught the last tube back home. There were not many people on it at that time of night. There was a man, though, a small man in a heavy overcoat, who got into the carriage with her at Euston Square who also got off at Kenton. But he turned in the opposite direction as she left the station. By the time she arrived home she was so frightened and exhausted that when she tried to put her key into the lock her hands shook and it took several tries to open the door. She entered the cold, empty house and went into the kitchen. She stood looking at the table where the men had sat waiting for her. The door to the garden hung open. She closed it – the lock was smashed – and went upstairs, kicked off her shoes and lay on the bed. She fell asleep in an instant, still in her coat. Alone.
She was woken by the sound of the doorbell ringing loudly and insistently. Her body shuddered. She had been having a terrible dream; she was back in the cell with the German but this time David was there, too, a prisoner. His face was turned away and when she called out his name he wouldn’t look round and she knew it was because they had done something terrible to his face. She sat up with a groan. It was daylight, she had slept through the night. She heaved herself up and walked shakily downstairs, in coat and stockinged feet, terrified they had come to take her away again.
But it was Irene standing on the doorstep, smart in her coat and her little circular hat with the red feather. Her eyes widened. ‘Darling, what’s happened to you?’
Sarah swallowed, her throat dry. Irene reached out and took her arm. ‘I rang and rang last night! How’s David, is he better, how ill is he . . . ?’
Sarah stared blankly at her sister. ‘Ill?’
‘He telephoned me yesterday. He said he was ill, he’d been sent home from the office, he was trying to get hold of you—’
‘David was here? Yesterday?’
‘Yes. In the morning – Sarah, what’s happening—’
‘Come in.’
‘Why are you in your coat? Have you been out—’
‘Come into the lounge, let me get the heating on. My feet are bloody frozen.’
Irene took charge, lighting the fire and going to make a cup of tea. Sarah stretched her numb feet to the warmth. The clock on the mantelpiece showed ten o’clock. Irene came back with a tray and set it on the coffee table. Sarah saw that her sister was forcing herself to be calm. She thought, I have to tell her what happened, they might question her and Steve. She took a cigarette, passed one to Irene, and had a sip of the hot, sweet tea. It tasted wonderful. She took a deep breath, then said, ‘David wasn’t having an affair, Irene. He was spying for the Resistance, passing them files from his work. His friend Geoff Drax was, too. They’re both on the run. I spent last night being questioned at the German embassy.’
Irene stared, her blue eyes wide. ‘David was working for the Resistance?’
‘I’d no idea, I couldn’t tell them anything because I didn’t know. They let me go. I’ve been told to stay at home. I think I was followed home on the tube, though I’m not sure.’
‘Did they – did they do anything to you . . . ?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘They were very polite. Though as I was being taken out I saw another prisoner who looked – bad.’ She told Irene everything that had happened. Then she said, in a low voice, ‘I’m scared.’
‘The swine!’ Irene exclaimed. For a moment Sarah thought she meant the Germans, but then she continued. ‘Bombings and riots and killing policemen! They’re murderers! I knew David had gone anti-German the last few years, but this—’
‘What other choice have they left people who oppose them?’
‘We’ve always believed in peace!’ Irene’s voice rose in indignation. ‘He’s placed you in terrible danger! All of us, the whole family! Spying for those Resistance thugs!’
Sarah put her head in her hands. Irene, suddenly apologetic, reached out. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘It’s just such a shock . . .’
Sarah looked up. ‘I know. Thank God Charlie was spared this. But then I think, if he hadn’t died David wouldn’t have done this. I wasn’t enough, you see. All these times he’s not come home till late, disappeared at weekends – God, his uncle Ted, that must have been a lie, too.’
‘He knew what you’d think of what he was doing,’ Irene said bitterly.
Sarah looked at her sister. ‘I wonder if he cared.’ She frowned. ‘You said he phoned you from here, he must have come back to look for me.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He must have wanted me to go with him.’
‘On the run? You’re not saying you would have gone?’
‘I don’t know.’ But even as Sarah said the words she knew that she would have followed David.
Irene said, ‘He always looked down on Steve and me, always seemed to think he was better—’
‘I don’t think it was like that,’ Sarah said quietly. ‘I think the anger just grew in him these last few years, anger at what Britain’s become.’
‘Are you saying you agree with him? After what he’s done?’ Irene’s voice took on its familiar self-righteous tone.
‘Maybe I do.’ Sarah thought of Mrs Templeman. ‘I’ve seen some things I haven’t told you about. What Mosley and his people are doing.’ She spoke with sudden fury. ‘Helping the Germans build their empire of sadism.’
‘Oh, Sarah,’ Irene answered impatiently. ‘What would the Resistance bring if they won? More violence, more scapegoats, maybe even communism? And how can they think they could ever defeat the Germans?’
‘Are the Germans really so invincible? Maybe that’s the mistake we’ve been making for the last twelve years. They’re being beaten in Russia, people say the regime would fall apart if Hitler died.’
‘But—’
‘They’re having trouble in France now they’re trying to force French men to work in Germany. And in Spain. And we’re not exactly doing a brilliant job of keeping the Empire together, are we?’ Sarah shook her head. ‘Dear God, here we are arguing bloody politics again!’
Irene’s face softened. ‘I’m sorry, dear. I just – I don’t know. I don’t think it’s right what’s happening to the Jews, putting them into camps like this, but—’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I fear for my children, you see, the boys. If – if order breaks down, I’m so frightened for their future.’
‘This isn’t the world any of us wanted, is it?’
Irene shook her head. ‘No.’
‘Do you remember when we were young, all the peace work we did with Daddy?’
‘It seems so long ago.’
‘Poor Mummy and Daddy,’ Sarah said. ‘I should think this’ll just about finish Daddy off. I wonder if David ever thought of that,’ she added bleakly.
Irene stood up. ‘I’m going to stay with you for a while,’ she said decisively. ‘Steve’s at home, I’ll ring and tell him he can jolly well look after the boys today. Now come on, let’s get you washed and dressed. When did you last eat?’ She took Sarah’s arm and helped her to her feet.
‘I had some tea and buns yesterday afternoon.’ Sarah realized how hungry she was. She remembered the cafe in Highgate, her encounter with Carol and thought,
Irene looked after her as though she were a child again, running a bath and cooking a meal, then sitting talking to her about their childhood, not their peace activities but ordinary family memories, life at home and at school. The morning was cold and clear. Sarah said gratefully, ‘You’ve always taken care of me, haven’t you?’
‘It’s what a big sister has to do.’
‘Remember when I was little and used to be frightened by Daddy’s facemask? Mummy would get cross but
